The story, in a way, began when I was nine. I haven’t been writing this book all those years, but still — that’s when it all started. It’s a story about coming to terms with loss, though not necessarily about overcoming it. For me, it’s a bright rather than a dark tale.

Within its pages, you’ll find wild chases and daring escapes, glimpses of history, and proper leaps of fantasy. And most importantly, Urmas Viik has created incredible illustrations for this book — vivid, precise, and perfectly in tune with the story.

The back cover reads:

This fantasy adventure takes the reader to an alternate Tallinn — a city whose streets are lined with spirit detectors, and where ghosts, Wardens of the In-Between, and Keepers of Keys walk among ordinary people.

Two weeks after their father’s funeral, twins Hugo and Loona discover a mysterious key that stirs up the entire upper echelon of Old Town’s ghostly society. The situation, already fraught with grief and mystery, grows even more complicated when a corrupt researcher from the Institute of Ghost Studies becomes entangled in shadowy dealings.

As the Keepers of Keys — Aaria and Magnus — strive relentlessly to protect both the twins and the key itself, Hugo and Loona face a daunting task: they must uncover the key’s true nature and find the gate it was meant to open.

Quote from critics

“Real treat for a ghost lover, a very well-created kind of society with haunted houses, restless souls, key guards and the guards of the Interim in Tallinn's old town. It also touches on a more serious topic - death and coming to terms with it. Urmas Viik's excellent comic-like illustrations capture the spirit of the times.

The author has dedicated the story to those who have lost a loved one at a young age.”

-        Tartu Children's Literature Award Committee

Sample 1

6. Department of Especially Secret Matters

  “So that means they found the key,” Barclay murmured pensively. “Are you completely certain?”
Aaria nodded.
  “There’s no doubt. What’s more, it’s now clear that the boy is very sensitive. He can sense things that…”
  “The boy’s name is Hugo, correct? What do you mean by ‘things’?” Barclay interrupted.
  “Well,” Aaria began, then paused. “He saw me. Clear as day.
  And heard me just as clearly. I have a strong suspicion that he can see spirits who are caught in the human world… ghosts,
poltergeists…” she blurted out loudly.
  “You mean… he can see his father?”
  “I reckon Karl Säde isn’t exactly caught, per se. He’s just unbelievably worried about his wife Anna. And their kids, too, of course.”
  “Do you think his son has seen him?”
  “No, I don’t. Karl Säde is careful. He spends most of his time by his wife’s hospital bed and only peeks at his children from a
distance, like when they’re coming from or going to a café or the grocery store. And a couple times in their home at night. Though
given how sensitive the boy is, it’s maybe a little too reckless.”
  Aaria had told Barclay almost everything. But only almost. She hadn’t spoken a word about talking to the twins herself or
helping to rescue their mother by doing so. She knew she’d done the right thing. And she knew full well that it was against the
rules. She’d broken the first and most important law that had been set long, long ago: “Under no condition are guardians of
the key permitted to speak to holders of the key.” Aaria had taken a risk, lied, and told Barclay only half-truths. In her report,
she’d written what a guardian of the key usually does: the beginning of the journey, the end of the journey, and the activities
in-between. The latter just involved keeping an eye on the key, Hugo, Loona, Anna, and Karl Säde.
  “Speaking of sensitivity,” said Barclay, “you can, of course, go to the statistics department and ask for the latest data, but as I recall, only one person in a thousand has that kind of ability. And that one might not even be aware of their ability if they never encounter us. Sometimes, it fades with age. But not always.”
  Aaria stood up and paced back and forth beneath the towering, arched ceiling of Barclay’s office. It had an ideal echo.
The delicate tapping of her shoes on the floor doubled in their reverberation and went silent when she stopped to inspect one
or another particularly interesting antique object.
  “How far do you think they’ve gotten in solving the key’s mystery?”
  “Not very,” Aaria replied. “But they’re working on it. They also found a little clue along with the key—a newspaper clipping.”
  “Yes, I read from your report that you visited their home. What do you plan on doing next?”
  “The fact that the boy is so sensitive made me think I should maybe change my appearance. So as not to stand out. But that’s
not possible, is it?”
  “Hmm.”
  Barclay twirled the ends of his moustache, which formed two neat grey half-circles on either side of his nose.
  “Changing the optical illusion? It’d be to your advantage, certainly.”

Sample 2

Hugo sat on the wide windowsill, phone in hand. Not that the world beyond the screen held any real fascination for him. But outside, too, nothing of interest was happening. On the narrow street wedged between the house and the old city wall — just at the edge of Hugo’s field of vision — stood a fair-haired boy. The boy seemed almost solid when he kept still. But he rarely did. His hair was just long enough to keep falling into his face, forcing him to brush it aside every few seconds. Hugo turned his head. The fair-haired boy gave a small flick of his chin, tossing the fringe away from his eyes. Hugo squinted; it was as if his vision refused to focus, as if the boy were drifting, swimming faintly before his eyes. It had to be exhaustion. A trick of sight. A lone car passed. It splashed through the puddles, scattering water that gathered again in the same shallow pools — until the next car came and scattered it once more. Hugo glanced back at his phone. “Eyes,” he murmured.

   In the next room, his twin sister Loona sat curled on the bed. She watched the light slide across the curtains. With her arms wrapped around her knees, her nightdress pulled tight across them, she looked like a sad little cocoon.

   Aaria, Keeper of the Key of the In-Between, outwardly a girl of about twelve but in truth three hundred and twenty-five years old, let out a heavy sigh. She slipped out of Loona’s wardrobe — the one pressed against the street-facing wall — straight onto the street outside, and drifted thoughtfully toward the ground. A fair-haired boy, idling nearby, hurried toward her, arms outstretched and legs braced as if preparing to catch something heavy. Aaria slipped past him and shot him an irritated glance. Magnus was always such a strange one. He too was a Keeper of the Key of the In-Between, and appeared to be about twelve, though in fact he was older than Aaria — three hundred and seventy-seven years old.

   “What’s happening?” Magnus asked, nodding toward the second floor.

    Aaria shook her head. “Something’s wrong.”

    “But…” Magnus began, clearly wanting to remind her that their watch was nearly over. The clock already showed 11:59.

    “Go on, then.” Aaria looked up anxiously at the twins’ windows. “I’ll come after you soon.”

    Aaria, Keeper of the Key of the In-Between, outwardly a girl of about twelve but in truth three hundred and twenty-five years old, let out a deep sigh. She slipped out of Loona’s wardrobe — the one pressed against the street-facing wall of the house — and drifted thoughtfully down toward the ground outside.

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